Worth Every Cent (Worth It 2)

“You’ve been distracted lately,” she said.

Her voice always got lower and more commanding when she switched into this mode.

“Not so distracted I can’t make critiques,” I said, as I held up my piece of paper.

“Have you looked at it?”

“What?”

“Look at it.”

My eyes whipped over to the piece of paper and I saw there was nothing on it.

“What the hell?” I asked.

“Your pen isn’t even working, and you didn’t notice,” Maria said.

With a sign, I closed my eyes as I drew in a deep breath.

“I wonder how much this has to do with that girl you left behind in Illinois.”

“I didn’t leave her behind. She lives there,” I said.

“And that trip was over a month ago. Yet here you are, not noticing your pens aren’t working and not listening to a thing I say.”

“In my defense, I never listen to what you say.”

I looked over at her and chuckled, but didn’t see any shred of amusement on her face.

“Maria, I’m not interested in talking about this.”

“I know that look in your eye,” she said.

“No you don’t.”

“I do. I had it once for my husband.”

I crossed my leg over my knee and brought my hand to cup my mouth.

“If you don’t want to talk, I can’t make you. But I will leave you with this thought. You haven’t felt this strongly about someone before. Ever. You always talk yourself out of things, and usually I’m on your side. Usually, you have good judgement when it comes to women. But whatever happened back in Stillsville, maybe you should consider the fact that it might be worth a second chance.”

I nodded, but I didn’t respond. Because she wasn’t saying anything I hadn’t already turned around in my head a thousand times over. I’d been home for four weeks, and there wasn’t a free second in my mind that wasn’t taken up by Michelle.

“When you get a chance to look through these folders, the last one has something important in it,” Maria said.

I furrowed my brow as I panned my gaze over to her.

“What is it?” I asked.

“Do some work for once and look at it yourself,” she said with a grin.

Then she got up out of her chair and took off through my home.

I reached over to the stack of folders and slid the last folder from the bottom of the stack. I flipped it open and found myself face to face with a green sticky note. I plucked it from the folder and dropped it closed, my eyes scanning the impeccable writing of Maria Lopez.

There was a buyer interested in Anton’s home. But they didn’t want any of the furniture.

Which meant I still had shit to contend with regarding that man’s estate.